


Drowned

by Zai42



Series: Gore/Kinktober Prompts [11]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 11:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16263005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Julia doesn't have good dreams anymore.Prompt: Drowning





	Drowned

It's water and it isn't, thin but cloying and always so, so cold, the surface always so distant but always in sight, a mocking pinprick of light that she reaches for but never quite manages to grasp. It is dark and clinging and she can feel salt in every open wound, of which she has many.

  
It took them before her, her mother first and her father after, and if she looks down she won't see them, sinking into the icy depths, because it has swallowed them and they are gone, gone where she can't reach them, where no one can reach them--

  
But that isn't true, either, is it? She doesn't understand it, the thing that stalks her nightmares, but it's here, isn't it, and some small part of her thinks it's a shame, really, because she had actually started to like him by the end, and now--

 

 

_"Hey."_

  
Julia's hand closed around a weapon before she was fully conscious. She stared down at the floor of the car, where the blanket she had wrapped herself in had fallen. Trevor had chucked something at her from the driver's seat, and when she sat up the takeout menu fell into her lap. "What?"

  
"You were dreaming," Trevor said, eyes on the road.

  
"Oh." Julia turned to stare out the window at the dark highway, at the billboards that lit up the overcast sky. "You want to stop somewhere?" she asked. She climbed forward into the passenger's seat, clicking on her seat belt. "Then I can drive."

  
Trevor shrugged. "Anything you want, kid."

  
Julia tried to remember if there was something she had shared with her mother, something good and nostalgic that she could suggest, maybe tell Trevor about it while they ate. He could complain that she had gone soft and she could call him a grizzled old curmudgeon, and perhaps for a moment--

  
She couldn't think of anything. Swallowed up, she supposed.

  
"Doesn't matter to me," she said, and they drove on.


End file.
